“Ah! Do you teach her this thing you are professor of? What do you call it?”
“Massage. We have learned it from the ancients. Yes, there she is ringing for me, and some one will come to fetch me. Shall I tell her you are here?”
“No, no; I prefer to go there at once.”
“But you have no admission ticket.”
“Bah! I will tell them I am Jansoulet’s mother, come to hear him judged.” Poor mother, she spoke truer than she knew.
“Wait, Mme. Francoise. I will give you some one to show you the way, at least.”
“Oh, you know, I have never been able to put up with servants. I have a tongue. There are people in the streets. I shall find my way.”
He made a last attempt, without letting her see all his thought. “Take care; his enemies are going to speak against him in the Chamber. You will hear things to hurt you.”
Oh, the beautiful smile of belief and maternal pride with which she answered: “Don’t I know better than them all what my child is worth? Could anything make me mistaken in him? I should have to be very ungrateful then. Get along with you!”
And shaking her head with its flapping cap wings, she set off fiercely indignant.